


Not on the List

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Established Gabriel/Sam Winchester, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Graceless Gabriel, Human Gabriel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-04-09 21:28:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4364828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Becoming human had never been on Gabriel's list of things to do.  He could appreciate them, but he was an angel first and foremost.  However, Sam managed to make it all easier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not on the List

Becoming human had never been on Gabriel's list of things to do. They were so fragile and short-lived, dying without having a glimpse of what the world had to offer them. But those traits he could see past because despite being so delicate, they could be utterly forgiving and tenacious, free will filling them to the brim. He also most certainly appreciated the wonders they had to offer. (Major kudos to the Mesoamericans.) 

But he was an angel first and foremost. None of those “positive” traits applied to him, especially when he couldn't even tie his own shoe. Grace spoiled him in the recent years. With a snap he once could have anything or anyone at his fingertips, be anywhere in the blink of an eye. Sure, he picked up a skill or two every few hundred years, but it never truly occurred to him to learn them out of necessity. Some of which he didn't have a use for in that day and age. 

(“But have you ever tried Buffalo Jumping, Sam?”)

Once an almighty ethereal being, Gabriel sat nothing more than a lame man with Velcro shoes. He may not have had Lucifer's looks, but as a messenger his wings weren't anything to sneeze at. Six in all, so strong and golden that they looked to be worth far more than he currently felt. His height once parred that of the Burj Dubai, and each of his four faces showed nothing but confidence. Raven, Crow, Coyote, Rabbit- all replaced by a single never changing form.

The irritation gnawed at his head and pricked tears at his eyes. A depression constricted his chest. Yet every day, he pulled himself out of bed, and every night he dragged himself back into it for one reason.

Sam.

After the whole song and dance of, “You're alive? You're human?!”, Sam acted nothing but patient. 

When Gabriel was hungry, Sam showed him how to cook something new without burning down the kitchen. Pies were amongst the first recipes turned experiments, which Dean whole-heartedly encouraged when he wasn't fighting the fire alarm.

The washing machine was a battle all its own, though it felt more like one fought at sea than in the comforts of the bunker. Sam couldn't remember the last time he saw so many bubbles. He made sure to keep a better eye on the soap next time, despite all the bubble beards.

No one talked about the dryer and its casualties.

Sam, Dean, and even Castiel never thought twice before about putting things on higher shelves. But after Gabriel tried to take a book down from a shelf and nearly brought the whole case down with him, they made sure to be more aware of where they placed things. Or at least make sure the only chairs around were those without wheels.

But no wailing alarms, bubble floods, or purpled bruises seemed to have quite the effect on Gabriel as the bunker's near constant chill. The mangling of his one good sweater in the dryer seemed to seal the deal on his “death by second ice age” as he once put it. 

At first, he started pillaging for blankets. Only the biggest and the fluffiest seemed to sate his needs. But after catching one on a stove burner during one late night pantry raid, he quickly swapped them out for Sam's clothes. Nearly every moment afterwords Gabriel spent in the bunker, he could be found almost drowning in one of Sam's hoodies. Even at night, Gabriel sometimes went to sleep buried in Sam's old Stanford sweater like a cocoon. Most nights, however, he didn't need to.

Before bed, Sam read. He reclined against the pillows with a book loosely held in his hands. He could read for almost an hour before Gabriel stumbled in. The man yawned and shuffled about, shedding jeans for cotton pants and blindly kicking off shoes to be tripped over in the morning. He left on his t-shirt and hoodie, then climbed into bed. Without ever looking, Sam raised his arm. Gabriel crawled underneath and pulled himself flush to Sam, cheek squished against the other's chest. 

Most days being human were utterly difficult, but every night made it completely worth the struggle.


End file.
